


Torn by the Queen

by mackleman_writes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackleman_writes/pseuds/mackleman_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland, a not so famous detective in England in the 1870's, is hired by the queen to solve a serial killing. By accident, however, he befriends the murderer, and is torn between his loyalty to the Queen and Francis. </p>
<p>(FrUk Vampire au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A request by Queen Victoria

November 18, 1842

"Finally, Mr. Kirkland!" Queen Victoria claps her hands together, and smiles at me. I smile back at her awkwardly, feeling slightly under-dressed among the robe-clad Queen before me. Even the dog sitting by her feet is perfectly groomed. "H-hello, your highness," I bow nervously.

"I'm sure you are wondering why I requested your presence?" Well..yeah. You don't just get dragged out of your house in the middle of the night for an audience with the Queen for no reason, I'm sure. Her Highness begins picking at something under her nail, and I realize that this was not going to be some big formal event as anticipated. Not like I was excepting to be invited to a ball or anything.  
"Errrm..well..yes..I was..uh, wondering about that." I speak and sheepishly rub the back of my head(the guards snickered at me and when I get home I'll realize I messed it up.). It's probably something about a recent crime if it's not a ball- eheh, not to brag or anything, but I am one of England's top crime solvers. Arthur Kirkland's the name, lovely to meet you. You've probably heard of me before...maybe? No? Well, perhaps I was stretching it a tad when I said 'top' crime solver. I've only succeeded in a couple of cases and those were mere robberies.

"There's been a series of killings, look into them, will you? It looks rather like a serial killing, and I'm aware you have some dealings within that premise.." Queen Victoria waves dismissively with her hand, leaving me to remember the past and the, well, to say the least, unsettling memories of coming home to my mother and father slaughtered while asleep in their beds. I shake my head to get rid of the images. They do not bother me as much as they used to now; it's only the fact that no one was able to catch the suspect that really troubles me. My parent's death is also the reason I became a detective-to help others who have gone through the same experiences I have gone through and erase the uncertainty from their minds about the true murderer.

"There's a packet with the causes of death of each person and all of that rubbish you'll probably find useful." I blink twice. Usually my clients show great interest in the cases they presents to me. I've never actually dealt with the Queen before this moment, so this is definitely going to be a new experience for me. "If you manage to catch the heinous villain behind these foul deeds, you shall be rewarded with..eh, say about 500 pounds. Maybe more, if you shall do it quickly." My eyes widened- 500 pounds? That was more than I'd ever gotten for solving a case before!

"Well, all right then," I shrug, unsure of what to say. Obviously I have to say yes, it's the bloody Queen of England! "You are dismissed, then. Guards, give him the papers and escort him out of here." Queen Victoria says, staring directly at her guards. Well, that certainly was brief.

Her Highness' guards advance forward, their faces stone cold and harsh. "Now,now gentlemen..you don't have to-" I am too late- they already have hold of both of my arms and are practically dragging me out of the red and gold throne room. Their hands are rough,and I'm pretty sure I will have bruises where they are grabbing on to me. They are kind of smelly too, but for the sake of being polite I keep quiet.

"Here's your damned reports," The hooked nose says, throwing it at my face. Luckily I manage to catch it before the multiple pages hit me in the face,and I quickly tuck them into the breast of my jacket so they won't get damaged on the walk to my flat. "Now get out of here, you insolent slug. Jesus. Don't know why the queen would pick you of all people to solve this." Yes,well, uhm, apparently the guards have a big case of the sour grapes.

I find myself being pushed out of the palace and into a big fluffy- yet freezing-snowbank. I stand up and brush myself off. The door slams behind me, and I begin to make my long trek home into the darkness.


	2. Vampire's aren't real

I'm in my study, looking over the papers and trying not to let the cold draft coming in from the crack in the window to bother me. The accursed landlord can't be bothered with any repairs of any sort but the location of the apartment is convenient(located smack dab in the center of town, so it's nearly equal distance to each of the cases I must work), so I suppose it's worth it.

The cause of death for all five of the victims seems the same, so it is obvious I'm dealing with some sick serial killer. Each of the victims are female, and according to this report, at least two of them have been abused sexually in a violent manner before beheaded and then, well, torn apart.. Not surprisingly, there was a lot of blood loss to the victims, but what really shocks me is how in the report they describe it:

The blood seems to have been completely drained from the body, however only small traces of blood were found at the scene of the victim's demise.

Huh? No blood? That was odd, especially with the amount of damage sustained to the poor victims. It was almost as if someone were pretending to be ..a vampire? Rather odd, isn't it? Vampires are only fictious beings made up to scare children into going to bed..not something that haunts the streets of London at night, terrorizing women. What kind of sick bastard would do this?

Even though I know that vampires are not real, I am ashamed to admit the thought of one, or someone pretending to be one, sends a shiver up my spine. I tell myself that it's just the draft.

Francis is sitting in his basement, staring blindly at the wall opposite him. Something is bothering him, but it is not the cold floor he is seated upon. Nor is it the angered shouts of the belligerent neighbors. It is the stench of two rotting bodies piled up in the corner, battered and torn up so badly it is hard for anyone to realize they were once human.

But Francis knows what they are- he can smell their blood. He is their murderer.

He can't help it- it is only his primal instinct, and the sweet taste of their blood keeps him alive. "I'm sorry.." He whispered, his French accent making the words come out smoother than an actual English person would speak it. "But it was what needed to be done." The man stands up and wipes a remaining trace of blood off of his lips. He sighed and stares at the bodies for a moment, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him for what he'd done. Not just to them, but to the others as well.

"I'll be back later."


	3. Chapter 3

Stupid, stupid stupid. I'm shivering as I walk down the streets of London, early in the morning. It's utterly freezing, and with every other step I slip a tad on the icy streets. No one is outside, not even the children who I would have expected to be pleased with the few inches of new fallen snow, and the only thing I can hear over the wind is my own grumblings. Why did today of all days have to be the day when I run out of bread? Jesus. I can be rather dull at times. I should have gone out last night when I had the chance! But oooh, nooo, gotta forget all about it and go out when it's freezing. Not pleasant.

I sigh in relief- there are a couple of stores just ahead! I'll stop in one to see if they carry loaves, and if they don't, just to get warm for a minute before I carry on my walk of doom. Gosh. I really hope they are general stores, because the farther I walk,the farther it'll be till I get back home, and I really do not want to stay cold.

As I approach the first store, I see a man inside setting up shop. He has blonde hair that is pulled back with a red ribbon, and his blue eyes are focused on the shelf where he is organizing loaves of bread. He has a scar across his cheekbone, and it looks rather recent. His clothes are rather worn out too. Perfect! I could get my bread in addition to helping out someone who looks like they're in need! Yes!

"Hello?" I knock on the door. My hands are going a bit numb, so it's difficult to knock lightly, and my simple knock turns out to be more of a bang. Whooooops.

The man jumps, obviously startled, and turns around to face me with his eyes wide with fear. Another feature I notice about him- he has bags under his eyes. I smile apologetically and wave, hoping that he won't be terrified of me. To my great joy, he quickly trotted over and flung open the door as if I were a long lost friend. "Oh, good sir! Do come in, you must be frozen to the bone!" He moves out of the way and I smile, grateful for this hospitality from a stranger. I enter his store quickly, bringing in some slush from my shoes with me. His store is warm, and somewhat crowded, though beautifully decorated with of holly atop each shelf. The room smells of something roasting, some meat of some sort, though a fireplace is absent and there isn't any really appetizing looking meat hanging from the ceiling, drying out. "Thank you," I speak and my hand out to him. I think I'm going to like this man.

"I'm Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland, that is," He shakes my hand a bit roughly as I introduce myself. "I am Franzis Bonnefoy, quite..a pleasure to meet you, Arthur," Francis' words are slurred slightly, but not because he is drunk- because he is a Frenchman. Huh. I suppose that explains why he looks so poor-the immigrants around here are poverty ridden. Francis ushers around to the interior of the store, still smiling, and I'm glad he isn't mad with me for banging on his door so early. "Is there anything in particular you have came here for, mon ami? Or just to get out of the cold?" His gaze is understanding, as if he's seen the whole world through my own eyes and felt every emotion I've ever felt. That characteristic stays stuck in my mind as my own eyes wander to the shelf with the loaves of bread on it. "Actually..besides coming in here to get warm, I would like to buy some bread," I begin to pull my wallet out of my pocket, but Francis immediately stops me. "Don't worry about paying, it is on the house!" He gently pushes past me and grabs one of the loaves. I feel my face begin to flush- a gift from a stranger? No, I couldn't accept it!

I follow Francis to the counter where he starts to wrap it up with brown wrapping paper and twine. "Mr. Bonnefoy, I-I really must insist that I pay for this," I smile weakly at him, but he doesn't answer nor looks up as he finishes up folding the paper. I take this silence as an incentive to open up my change purse and pull out a couple of hay pennies for him, ready to force them upon him if needed. As I gather the money, I watch Francis. His long fingers are nimble and work fast as he ties up my package, and that charismatic smile is still upon his lips. He really does seem to like to do things for others, I guess, I think as I place the money down. As soon as the small metallic 'clang' of the money being set down on the table reaches his ear, Francis looks up questioningly. "Did you not hear me earlier, ami? I said the bread is free for you," Francis stares at me with wide eyes. He kind of looks hurt, as if I'd insulted him in some way. He has those kind of eyes you'd see on orphans on the street begging for change. How can I turn a face like that down?

"Well...I-I...all right," I shrug nervously. As I say this, Francis' eyes light up and his smile brightens, letting me know that I have just made this man's day. Some people find the oddest things rewarding,I guess. "Merci!" He laughs melodiously, his French accent really coming through in the "Ohonhonhon!"

I chuckle rather nervously. "Here is your bread," He pushes the package towards me gently, and when I reach for it, his hand draws back as if he is scared of human contact. "Err, sorry," I mumble, though I'm not 100% sure what I'm sorry for doing. I pick up the bread and stuff it under my arm in preparation for the long trip home, ready to get out of the store. It might have seemed cozy at first, but now it's small quarters make me feel a tad claustrophobic. Francis continues smiling. "I suppose I'll just be on my way then," I start shifting towards the door and Francis nods once. "I suppose you must be!" He sighs, a bit over dramaticly, but hey, he's French, isn't he? Those buggers are always doing something weird. "Do come back anytime! You will always be welcome under my roof!" He waves and I raise my hand in acknowledgement, then turn to go out the door.

Wow. What a day. I think I'd just made a friend once in one day.

I think that's a new record for me.


	4. Chapter 4

fter that first day, I've been going back to Mr. Bonnefoy's store. It's very nice, actually, though he often insists that everything I attempt to purchase is 'on zeee house', which makes me very uncomfortable. I suppose it can't really harm anything though.

Today I'm just hanging out around his store. I've been kind of depressed lately, because I haven't really gotten any farther with that case the Queen assigned me, and I really need that money. There hasn't been any leads, and a couple of new bodies have shown up in various parts of town and really aren't that helpful. Just the same report- no blood, sexual abuse. Ugh. I suppose I think a part of me is tired of not getting anywhere, because I end up telling Francis about the case.

"It's just...I don't know." I sigh and run a hand through my hair. We're sitting at the counter where he people's items and whatnot. Recently I've been thinking of growing it out like Francis's, because that's just a nice look, but I am not sure if it will have the same effect as his does. I'll have to think about that one. "How would someone just..drain the blood out of a body like that? And why?! Besides to scare the people, of course," I add on. It's incomprehensible to me.

Francis' brows furrow. He seems to be thinking about it, perhaps in a more thoughtful way than myself. He isn't coming up with any answers though and eventually just shrugs. "Je ne sais pas.." He speaks in that frog-language of his. I can only assume that it means 'I don't know' or something like that, and that it's not helpful, so I shouldn't care. "Ugh." I rest my head in my hand. "This is just...so different than anything I've ever seen before." Besides my parent's own demise, but, as you may know, you don't really just go about telling people things like that. Francis only nods in agreement, or maybe sympathy. Possibly both.

"I'm sorry I'm bothering you with all of my nonsense," I apologize to Francis after a minute of awkward silence. I'm probably taking up time he could be using to stock shelves or something beneficial to the store and it's most likely that I'm boring him. Francis smiles at me, his gaze warm. Again, I can't help but wonder where that scar across his cheek bone is from. It looks like it was done with a fingernail, or maybe a dull blade, because the way it is shaped is not linear like a normal knife would do.

"It is fine," Francis stands up(originally, he was leaning over the counter) and his ponytail. "I do not mind. You are my friend." He claps his hands together and kind of rubs them, like he's trying to get something off of them. He does that a lot. I nervously smile up at him. "However, I must run out to the store..there is something I need to get that I do not have upon my own shelves. Would you mind, as you English say, keep the shop for me?"

I nod- it can't be too much trouble, can it? Plus, it's around 2 o'clock, so the only people who will be coming in will be elderly ladies who can't do too much damage.

"I will not be gone for too long.." Francis moves away from the table to grab his worn out winter coat. It looks very scratchy and uncomfortable, if you were to ask me. I wish I could help Francis with his financial condition, but he seems as if he doesn't even realize that he's almost penniless. "All right, I'll be here when you get back." I wave lazily as he trots out the door and into the cold. Luckily, it hasn't gotten any colder than it had on the first day I visited Mr. Francis and his shop. Plenty of snow, though!

Agh. Look at me, filling up my story with details about the weather. How pitiful can I get?

Being alone in the shop is much different than it is with Francis. Every sound seems to be louder in it. It makes my heartbeat sound almost as if someone is banging on the door and I can't stop seeing shadows out of the corners of my eyes. I know it's just nothing, but ugh. That place gives me the creeps.

Since I'm alone(and terrified out of my mind), I figure it might be nice to do some exploring. I've come here before, as you know, so I know the ground floor pretty well. I'm a tad curious about the basement, though! There's always a meat-y smell coming from it, like something is rotting. I guess it's just meat, but I just want to check it out. You never know- he could secretly be the 'vampire serial killer'! Yeah, seems legit.

Maybe there are old books in there, ones with old spells on how to summon demons with names like Sebastian or Bard. Cauldrons, perhaps. Pentagrams decorating the walls written in lamb's blood? Oooh, if I'm lucky, there'll be a couple of mangled bodies!

I begin walking towards the door leading to the mysterious basement, now excited to discover what might be behind that wooden door. I'm literally touching the handle, when I hear the door open. Shit! I was looking forward to this! This was going to be probably the most exciting part in this chapter! And now it's ruined, because, of course, an elderly lady entered the shop!

"Oh, sir," The lady's voice is nearly inaudible, and I struggle to be patient with her. It's not her fault. "Yes, Ma'am?" I turn away from the alluring basement door and face her. "Could you show me where your bread is?"

When Francis came back in about half an hour, I still hadn't been able to get in the basement. Too many old ladies! I doubt there was anything of interest in the crummy old basement anyway.

"Anything exciting happen when I was gone?" Francis hangs up his jacket and faces me, smiling. I shrug. "Not really. A couple of people came in and got bread, but that's not really exciting." I chuckle- even a man like Francis would not find that interesting. I stand up and stretch a bit. It's around 3:30, and I do need to be getting home. It'll only get colder the later it is. Francis glances around at the stuff upon the shelves and nods once, as if making sure everything is in order. "Lovely chatting with you, chap. Think I'll be off now, though," I smile awkwardly. Francis nods. He doesn't seem too upset, I note.

But whatever. I have a murder to solve.


End file.
